


How Much?

by nackledamia



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 23:10:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15873618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nackledamia/pseuds/nackledamia
Summary: Thomas makes a wish upon a shooting star and his wish is granted. For the universe to give him what he wants, however, it has to take something away.





	How Much?

**Author's Note:**

> I fucking hate university

Thomas’ arm slung across James’ shoulders. James turned to him, but Thomas wasn’t looking at him. Thomas had his attention on the vast darkness above, admiring the starless sky. James shifted uncomfortably, grass prickling his legs. He lay his head against Thomas’ shoulder and closed his eyes.

This was their last night together. Tomorrow, Thomas’ family would be moving to France. They would be in different high schools, different countries. After growing up together, years of being in the same schools, the same classes, James couldn’t imagine life without his best friend.

“Look, a shooting star!” Thomas exclaimed, tightening his grip around James’ shoulder and rattling all the bones in his body.

“Make a wish,” James told him, too tired to look up. He didn’t want to come stargazing but Thomas had insisted and he had relented.

“Hmm… I wish to be one of the popular kids in high school,” Thomas said wistfully.

James snorted. Thomas elbowed him hard and laughed, before lowering his eyes to the ground.

“I’m sick of being the weird kid, James,” Thomas spoke softly, a note of seriousness in his voice, his free hand beginning to pluck blades of grass. “Maybe I can start anew in France. Maybe I can be the cool kid this time.”

“The day you become cool is the day I die,” James mocked, and Thomas threw the blades of grass in his face. James lifted his head off Thomas’ shoulder and shoved him hard, both laughing as the wind picked up around them.

“Do you think that’s a sign that my wish came true?” Thomas picked himself off the ground and stood up, gazing up at the sky again.

James shivered in the cool breeze.

“Maybe,” he replied, standing as well, “Can we go back now?”

“Okay,” Thomas turned to him, slipping his hand into James’.

They were quiet as they stumbled down the small hill, hands grasped tightly.

“You know I’m going to miss you lots, right?” Thomas finally broke the mourning silence between them, turning to James as the street lights of their town came into view.

“Me too,” James sighed. “But we’re going to skype, right? As much as we can?”

“Definitely,” Thomas assured, then grinned and nudged James hard, almost causing him to fall over. “Now go home and drink something hot; you’re shivering. I’ll see you tomorrow at the airport.”

“Bye,” James muttered, his fingers bitingly cold as Thomas pulled away. James stood in the middle of the path watching Thomas skip up the steps to his house before heading up the path to his own house.

\---------

“Why weren’t you at the airport!” Thomas wailed the moment their call connected.

“Caught a cold,” James sniffed, rubbing his nose, reaching for another tissue. It had been a week since Thomas left. “A bad one.”

“I told you to drink something hot!”

“I told you I didn’t want to go stargazing!”

Thomas huffed, crossing his arms. His brows furrowed- not in anger, but in worry. “So you haven’t gone to school since it started?” Thomas asked, leaning closer to the laptop camera on his end.

“Nope,” James shrugged and blew his nose before continuing. He took his time, forcing Thomas to wait. He could tell that Thomas was bursting with things to share. This was how he would bully Thomas across a screen, across the world. ”How’s France?” James finally asked.

“My wish came true,” Thomas blurted, ever eager, making James smile. 

“Everyone thought my accent was cool,” Thomas continued, “Everyone laughed whenever I said something. They think I’m cool.”

“Are you sure they’re not just laughing at your terrible French?” James teased.

“They laughed in a nice way,” Thomas retorted, but he looked away from the screen, now unsure of himself.

“I’m just joking,” James assured, wishing he could reach into the screen and give Thomas a hug so Thomas knew he was just messing with him. “I’m sure everyone thinks you’re cool.”

“You think so?” Thomas brightened again, turning back to James.

“I know so,” James returned his smile, dropping his soiled tissue into the bin and reaching for another.

“As long as James Madison thinks I’m cool, I know I’m cool,” Thomas puffed his chest out and grinned from his end of the screen.

“I think Thomas Jefferson is very cool,” James reassured, throwing his tissue in the air like a single confetti, making Thomas laugh.

_“Thomas!”_

“That’s my mom,” Thomas looked away from the screen and back at James. “I’ll call you again tomorrow!”

James waved as furiously as Thomas waved back until the call disconnected, then dragged himself off the chair and flopped into bed. He curled up into himself and groaned at the aches in his body- stupid cold- and closed his eyes, going back to sleep.

\----------

“Look at you!” James tried to exclaim, but his voice emerged low and rough. It was the cough, his throat was dry and painful; speaking was difficult. It had been months since he last skyped Thomas. They had both been busy adjusting to the demands of high school and the loss of each other’s physical backs. Thomas’ change in appearance startled him. “You’re growing your hair out!”

Thomas flipped his curls out of his eyes and grinned. “I’m thinking shoulder length,” Thomas said, placing his hand in line with his shoulder, then leaned forward to squint at James wrapped up in a turtleneck and a blanket. “Sick again?” Thomas frowned and James relished in the warmth of Thomas’ concern pouring through the computer screen.

“Still sick,” James corrected, sniffing and rubbing his red nose, pulling his blanket tighter around himself. “I never recovered. It just got worse.”

“It’s been months,” Thomas lowered his voice.

James shrugged, “It’ll go away soon enough.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“Yeah,” James shifted his laptop so Thomas could see the row of pill bottles lining a shelf.

“What did the doctor say?” Thomas probed.

“Must have caught a really nasty bug,” James shifted his laptop back to face himself, “They’re going to do blood tests and what not if it doesn’t go away soon.”

“Blood tests… that’s serious, James,” Thomas’ voice quietened.

James waved his hand dismissively. “School and life is boring and predictable here,” James changed the subject, “I want to hear about your adventures in France!”

Thomas leaned back and smiled, but this smile didn’t crinkle the corners of his eyes and James knew that Thomas was not distracted by his sudden change of topic.

“I’ve been acting as a translator for large scale school events like, when a foreign minister visits my school and stuff, I translate from French to English and vice versa between the minister and my principal,” Thomas said.

“Nice!” James gave him a thumbs up.

“I think this is what I want to do when I grow up. I want to be a translator,” Thomas continued, peering up through the computer camera at James, as though hoping for his approval.

“That’s cool!” James nodded vigorously.

Thomas’ smile widened. “You think it’s cool?”

“I sure do. I think you’re cool, too.”

“Then my wish is still working its magic,” Thomas grinned genuinely this time.

James rolled his eyes playfully. “I bet you’re all popular and famous in your school too,” he edged Thomas on.

“Thomas Jefferson is a household name around here,” Thomas laughed, then looked down at his desk, thoughtful, musing. “No, but really, I’m not the weird kid anymore.”

“You were never weird, Thomas,” James assured, before a bout of dry, painful coughs forced him to turn away from his laptop.

“Go rest, Jemmy,” Thomas spoke up worriedly, using his affectionate childhood name for James in his concern.

“Okay,” James croaked, waving weakly at Thomas before disconnecting their call.

\---------

_“We don’t know what’s wrong with him.”_

_“What do you mean you don’t know what’s wrong with him?”_

_“I mean that all the blood, urine and stool tests came back clean. We don’t know why he’s so ill- he shouldn’t be ill at all- or how to cure his illness. We’ll prescribe him the best medication we can give him, but whether he’ll actually recover is on him.”_

_“Please help my son, doctor. He’s a good boy. He has his whole life ahead of him. He deserves to go out and play and learn like the other kids.”_

_“I’ll do my best, Mr and Mrs Madison.”_

\---------

“Homeschooled?!”

“Shh,” James urged Thomas, wincing at the way Thomas’ high-pitched screech echoed in his ears, having plugged in his earpiece for this skype call.

“What happened?” Thomas asked, lowering his voice.

“They don’t know if I’m contagious so I can’t leave the house. Most days, I’m too tired to get out of bed. Really, it’s a win-win situation,” James shrugged, coughing into a prepared handkerchief.

“Is that… is that _blood_?” Thomas gasped.

“No,” James looked away and tucked his handkerchief beneath the laptop where Thomas couldn’t see it. Thomas huffed, glaring at him through the screen, and James was too tired to keep up the lie. “Don’t tell my parents, they don’t know about the blood,” James finally said.

Thomas ran his hands over his face. “Please tell me you’re recovering,” Thomas begged.

James shrugged again, this time without as much energy as before. “I’m used to it now,” he replied.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Thomas said sharply, then caught himself and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” Thomas’ voice trembled slightly as he spoke, “I’m worried about you. You were fine the day I left and I can’t even go back to America and visit you until I graduate from high school here.”

“One more year,” James said and it took all his effort to smile at Thomas.

“I miss you, James,” Thomas’ voice softened, “and I’m so sorry I can’t be there with you.”

“I miss you too,” James whispered, then changed the subject. No use wallowing in his condition when there was nothing they could do about it. “Tell me about France. Are you work-shadowing a translator? How cool are you over there?”

“I’m super cool,” Thomas gave him a small, understanding smile and shared his adventures in a soft and calm voice that lulled James to sleep.

\---------

James was woken up by the loud thundering of footsteps up the stairs. He tried to turn and face whoever had thrown his door wide open, but his muscles weren’t strong enough to move. He was like a blob of jelly on the bed.

The figure moved into his line of sight, bright purple clashing against the dull greys of his room.

“James,” Thomas whispered, kneeling on the floor beside him and rolling him back so James could see him better. “James,” Thomas shook him gently, “I came as soon as I landed.”

James tried to smile at him, but he knew his facial muscles weren’t responding. The days and months blurred together since he was bed-bound; he hadn’t even realised that a year had past. Time didn’t matter much to him; he knew he only had a few more weeks to live.

“Thomas,” James tried to say, but he didn’t know if any sound escaped his lips or if he simply mouthed the word. “You look good. Cool,” James tried again, and reckoned that his dry lips merely huffed air out because Thomas’ horrified expression didn’t change.

“James, I’m so, so sorry,” Thomas choked on his words, wrapping his arms around him and buried his head into James’ shoulder, trembling as the first sobs shuddered through his body.

“I wish I never left,” James could hear Thomas’ muffled voice as he spoke into the layers of clothes James was wrapped in. “I wish I knew how to help you. I wish I knew what happened.”

Thomas sat up, wiping his tears away with a hand, staring down at James.

James caught his eye, then darted his gaze towards the window. It was a dark and starless night.

“I know. There’s no shooting stars. My wishes won’t come true,” Thomas sniffled and took James’ hand. He laughed softly. “James, remember the night before I left? Remember that we went stargazing? Remember that I wished to be a cool kid in high school?”

James didn’t know if Thomas could see his nod, but Thomas continued speaking anyway.

“I think I was cool in high school, but I was only cool because I had you to guide me,” Thomas tightened his grip. “It’s thanks to you that I’m cool.”

_“I’m proud of you,”_ was what James would say if he could speak.

“Remember what you said after I told you I wanted to be a cool kid?” Thomas smiled fondly at the memory. “You said I would be cool over your dead body.”

If James could laugh, he would have laughed at the way Thomas seemed startled out of that memory, looking down at James’ dying self in absolute horror.

_“It was a joke,”_ James would have told him, _“I’m not sick because of a stupid shooting star wish.”_

“James,” Thomas whispered, sliding off his bed and sinking to his knees at James’ bedside. “James, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. This would have never happened if I hadn’t been so self-centered.”

_”Nonsense,”_ James would have hit Thomas over the head if he could.

Thomas’ gaze flickered back up to the window suddenly, as though something caught has attention. He stood up and walked around James’ bed to open it. Thomas sat down on the opposite side of the bed where James’ back faced him and James couldn’t see him. He took James’ hand again, pulling his arm backwards.

“I wish,” Thomas whispered, just loud enough for only the both of them to hear, “I wish James recovers,” Thomas squeezed his hand, “and I would give anything in exchange for his health back.”

A light breeze fluttered through his open window. James felt Thomas shiver in the wind.

\---------

The next day, James’ muscles were responding again. He was still weak with the lack of muscles usage, but he could shift on the bed now. He could gesture for items. He could speak.

“You need to rest, James, honey,” James’ mother fluffed his blanket, mumbling prayers under her breath, delighted that a miracle had cured her son. “I’ve called the doctor and a therapist. They’ll teach you how to move again. You’ll be up in no time.”

“Thomas?” was the first thing he asked his mother.

“I told him you were contagious. He’s caught the same thing you did, but I’m sure he’ll be fine,” James’ mother brushed it off in her hurry to get James up and moving again, back to the life he had waiting for him.

The life that Thomas had given back to him.

James didn’t know if he believed in the whole shooting star wishes nonsense, but what his logic and mind refused to accept, his heart weighed heavy with the decision Thomas had made for him, for them.

It was months before James was strong enough to walk by himself, before he could move properly, before he was allowed to go outdoors again.

Months without seeing Thomas, without speaking to Thomas, but knowing in a dark corner of his heart that Thomas’ condition was worsening a lot faster than his had.

James finally managed to pay Thomas a visit. The unknown and incurable illness had manifested itself differently in Thomas. His illness had targeted his body functions instead; Thomas was propped up in bed, hooked up to numerous machines that kept his heart pumping, kept his blood moving in his body. His body hadn’t totally shut down on him like James’ had; Thomas could still smile when James entered, he could still joke “looking cool” as James approached.

James slapped Thomas hard, but Thomas only laughed.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” James snarled at him, tears brimming in his narrowed eyes, prickling and beginning to spill. James didn’t understand what was so funny. He didn’t understand why Thomas would throw away his life for him. He didn’t understand the magic of the universe, why it was so unfair, why someone had to die just because a little boy wanted to have more than one friend in school. “You’re fucking stupid, you know that?”

Thomas only laughed again, as though there was something funny James didn’t understand about their exchange.

“You’re the one with the high school diploma,” James began to pace the room, shaking his fists at Thomas, raising his trembling voice with every sentence. “You’re the one who graduated in France with a career goal in mind. You’re the one with a bright future ahead of you. Why would you throw all that away for me?”

Thomas reached his arms out towards James, a dozen tubes tugged along with his arm movement.

James hesitated, but Thomas beckoned again and James threw himself into the arms of his best friend, sobbing and trembling and apologising and begging for forgiveness.

Thomas rocked James gently in his arms, until his swears at the world became sniffles into Thomas’ shoulder.

“Because you never got to experience all of that,” Thomas spoke softly, carefully, every word exhausting to vocalise. “Because now we’re even. Because now it’s your turn to explore the world and learn and live life to its fullest.”

“But what about you?” James asked, his voice cracking with the question.

“What about me?” Thomas shrugged easily and smiled again, ever calm, ever accepting of eventual death. “I’ll keep an eye on you from the afterlife, I guess.”

“You’re a fucking dumbass,” James scowled, “I won’t let you die. I’ll make a wish. I’ll take the curse back. We’ll break the curse. We’ll live a long and happy life together.”

Thomas laughed, a sort of serenity in his expression.

“I was waiting for you,” Thomas spoke, leaning back against his bedrest. He took James’ hand and squeezed gently, closing his eyes.

“What do you mean?” James shook him a little too harshly in return.

Thomas shook his head, his eyes remaining closed. “Stay with me?” Thomas whispered.

“Of course,” James assured, squeezing his hand.

“Cool,” Thomas whispered, his lips lifting into a hint of a smile. James pressed the back of Thomas’ hand to his lips as the heart monitor next to Thomas’ bed flatlined.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought?


End file.
